Mohan Dutta: Culture-Centered Approach

Rotin , a student from a moffusil town of Bengal, once came to work with me as a student. He wanted to make change in the world, make a real difference in the rural Bengal that he had seen around him growing up. Growing up in moffusil Bengal, he had seen a lot of poverty all around him. He had grown up amidst the poverty. He wanted to earn a PhD because he wanted to make a difference in the world. He felt that learning the tools of communication would equip him with the tools that he needed to work on grassroots change. He didn't talk much, usually just smiled at me when I pushed him to work harder or become more confident in his ways. When I shared with him my journeys of fighting back and shared why I felt he needed to express his convictions boldly, he just smiled back at me. I wanted him to share the anger that we experienced as academics of color in an academe so ensconced in its expectations of Whiteness. And Rotin just smiled in silence. In his silence, I s

I cry in our sadness In the loss of a little child in the hills and plains of Pakistan, US, Somalia, Afghanistan. I weep in pain in the suffering in our suffering. My grief like yours hurts. My loss like yours is loss. Our grief, here and there is grief. My body like yours hurts. But it is I who has to do the explaining It is I who has to be interrogated It is I whose motives have to be questioned It is I who will be accused of interrupting your grief It is I who will be lectured on civility the appropriateness of time, place, context. And I must go on Because grief must be interrupted. Lest it be used for more violence. I must go on Because Grief must be interrupted. Mine, yours, ours. Stories must be told, Imaginations must be engaged, questions must be raised, here, now, there Everywhere.  

Facebook today is inundated with accounts of pain, empathy, and outpouring of support for Boston. Headlines and posts such as "terror strikes again" have caught our attention once again. The show of emotion expresses itself in the act of reaching out, in finding a common point of emotional sharing with the people in Boston. Stories emerge that seek to respect the dignity of the lives lived. Our attention is drawn to the observations that this is one of the oldest marathons and that the race was taking place on a special day, symbolizing all the good things about freedom, liberty, and independence. The stories of heroism emerge on this backdrop to narrate the courage of the American people. The expressed emotions on social media ranging from pain to anger remind me of the range of emotions I was immersed in after the 9/11 attacks. The inherent goodness and strength of Boston residents is juxtaposed in the backdrop of the imagined perpetrator of terror. Along the lin

A Planned Parenthood activist who labels herself as feminist surprisingly uses the argument that "family planning interventions work and have effectively empowered women in the global South." She apparently draws on the rhetoric of gender empowerment to advocate for Planned Parenthood. What surprises me about the position articulated in the advocacy statement above is its uncritical celebration of the language of empowerment without interrogating the questions of power that are tied to the interpretive frames circulated in family planning interventions. I am also surprised by the erasure of the historic complicity of Planned Parenthood in racist population control programs in the early years, working closely with eugenicists to shape population control programs directed at poor, black and colored recipients of the Third World. The lack of historical familiarity with the context within which family planning interventions developed demonstrates the fluidity of human righ